Virginities
by Spacemin Spiff
Summary: When Meg found Cindy she was a swollen eyed waitress in her stepmother's restaurant: a sometimes trick, sometimes model, more often than all others victim of a girl. When Cindy found Meg she was a scrappy dog of a thief, escaping in a broken car from a debt owed to a major Boss operating on the coast. With a beaten up rifle and a couple of BARS, they carved out their mutual legacy.


Their first time is in Meg's Ford V-8, and the air is so dusty and hot that the parts of their bodies not stuck to the leather or licked clean are coated in grit. Meg means to be gentle, but her hands come out rough and clumsy: there are elbows everywhere and pulled hair towards the end. Cindy doesn't mind, she is too busy laughing at her own naivete, her closed off words between open legs. Her heart had been hardened from the outside in, and she does not expect tenderness in any sector of her life.

When Meg found Cindy she was a swollen eyed waitress in her stepmother's restaurant: a sometimes trick, sometimes model, more often than all others punching bag of a girl. She wore a thin blue dress and a stained apron, her hair all up in pins. She served Meg black coffee and gave her a hard, five second look that immediately saw in her a mutual secret. A need for escape, a quiet fury, an affection for their sex, all of them mirrored in each others eyes. When Cindy found Meg she was a scrappy dog of a thief, escaping in a broken car from a debt owed to a major Boss operating on the coast. She was more than a bit worn at her edges: she bore the dignity of someone frayed and patched, broken and mended, a lifetime over. When she accepted the coffee she returned Cindy's stare with gratefulness past the situation at hand, and their connection was forged. They held a conversation at this lonely counter: in glances and touches, scraps of sentences written on scraps of newspaper. Meg drank coffee until she was jittery, long past her intended time of departure;Cindy smiled at her shyly, but wide enough that a cracked tooth was exposed.

That night Meg slept in the parking lot behind the restaurant, head pressed against the door of her V-8, and in the morning she awoke to a light tapping on her window, like a little bird. Lifting her head and glaring blearily into the sunlight, she saw the waitress' nervous face. She sat up further, her hand reaching almost unconsciously into her matted hair, and noticed the small but rotund bag grasped to Cindy's breast, the ungodly earliness to the hour. She cracked the door open.

"Would you mind a... driving companion?" Cindy's voice was less soft, less beaten than it had been the night before.

"I don't know sweetheart," Meg's smirk was full, her brow raised ", I'm not exactly going on a pleasure cruise here. To be honest, I'm running away from a couple of... business associates sent after me by someone I might have liberated some... valuables from. To be frank, he's not all that invested in having me brought to him alive." She shrugged her coat off of her shoulders, fumbling in her pockets for her cigarettes. Soon enough she found them, struck an match, and placed an Old Gold Regular between her smudged red lips. "I'm not even sure where it is I'm heading to, and we ain't staying anywhere that puts mints on the pillow in between here and there." She looked up at her theoretical hitchhiker and was pleasantly surprised by the firmness of her lips, the hardness of her eyes.

"You really think I give a fuck about having mints on my pillow?" Meg nearly choked on the inhale as she heard these vulgar words spat from such a pretty, battered face. After a second of recovery she shook her head, grinning and unlocking the door.

"Alright honey. Get on in."

After than that fateful morning, Meg never again heard a foul word from Cindy's mouth. She saw the hard lips, hard eyes, many times again. More often than not Meg herself was the victim of this scowl, but the worst she heard from Cindy was an infrequent 'drat'. Even on this day, this hour on the side of the road, in the V-8, as they give their bodies to one another in forfeit, she is as honey-tongued as a schoolgirl.

"Tell me if I'm doing alright, won't you my dearest?" She smiles, that cracked tooth again, as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. They have finished with each other's mouths, breasts, and empty stomachs for the moment. Meg has shown her partner that her tongue is good for more than sarcasm, and Cindy is eager to return the favor, crouched tightly between Meg's split legs. "I'm not a city girl like you, I didn't have clubs to visit, you do understand?" Meg laughs low and erotic.

"Cindy, honey, don't you stress about it. You have plenty of time to practice now, and I'll be more than willing act as your test subject." Cindy giggles, a nervous response, and darts her tongue out to touch her upper lip.

"I'm a lucky girl."

Their first time is in some dusty badlands town, and out of shellshock they can't even remember it's name, though the papers sure as hell do. Everything is going so well when it happens. Meg is at the counter with her Browning in the clerk's face, Cindy is holding the bag with white knuckles, collecting scarce valuables from those in line. She can hear Meg shouting something at the clerk about empty vaults when the bank doors open wide. She can see the gun and the badge, and if her fingers weren't already numb with stress on the trigger of her gun she would have dropped it to the floor from fear and shock.

When Meg first pulled over by a bank and told Cindy to leave the door open and the engine hot she was even more afraid, even more surprised, and it did not help her to watch her partner go into the trunk and pull out a beaten up rifle and a sac. It came to her own surprise when, fifteen terrible minutes later, Meg darted out of the double doors and into the V-8's leather seat and Cindy's hands did not even shake as she turned out of her spot and slammed down on the gas. When Meg first came out of a bank to find Cindy waiting at the curb like she had actually signed up for this, she felt a strange pride in her heart. As the car sped off, Cindy's eyes glued to the road, Meg smiled at the twist of her lover's hair in the wind and felt indescribably warm towards her. She looked good with her bruises healed. Once they had gone a few towns over, Cindy told her they would have to have a serious conversation, which Meg had expected, but the issue her lover began with was not what she had anticipated.

"I can't believe you left me at that curb without a single word of warning." Cindy huffed after a few minutes spent gnawing on her lower lip. "I know we need money to keep going, but for glory's sake you should have talked it over with me on the way." Meg laughed, waving her hand around the cabin, an Old Gold Regular between her fingers.

"Honestly honey, I was afraid you'd chicken out." Cindy's smile was strained but true.

"Have a little faith Meg."

After that they planned the heists together. For a while Cindy just sat in the car, but after they had enough money for a second rifle and two BARs she started coming along. Meg had a bit of a reputation already, but it grew with every emptied vault, and her partner was tacked onto it soon enough. Meg frowned at the papers, muttered things about making Mr. Hades' job easier for him, but Cindy saw the laughter at the edge of her eyes. They stayed in derelict, nondescript motels. Meg bought Cindy a pair of silver shoes. Cindy bought Meg a dress that actually fit her hips. They were happy and guiltless together. Until the policeman comes into the bank and Cindy nearly drops her gun.

"Drop your weapon." Cindy hates how much he looks like a policeman in a children's book, or better yet a Prince, with his dark hair and defined jaw. She points her gun at him, ashamed of how badly she shakes.

"Meg?" She calls, but her lover is already there, the Browning level to the Prince's heart.

"I said, drop your weapons." The Policeman's voice shakes just a bit less than Cindy's arm.

"I'll tell you what, loverboy." Meg's voice is haughty "You're going to lower your weapon, and then you're going to let me and my missus go. No one needs to get hurt."

"You," he breathes dryly ", are under arrest for robbery." Meg sighs, rolling her eyes.

"There's no need to be a hero." Cindy attempts to reassure the policeman, taking a sudden step towards him. The next second, his gun is pointed at her head and Meg can tell his intent by the tension in his arm, and the second after that shards of skull and meat are all over the floor.

The policeman's body is crumpled at Meg's feet. He is the first person Meg has ever killed. He is the first person Cindy has ever seen die. Meg is the one shaking now. They escape in shock with their meager gains, Cindy's foot all the way down on the gas until they are six towns over and midnight is creeping up on them. They park in a wooded area and check into the first motel they can find. Later that night, once they are naked and slowly coming out of their numbness, they hold each other on the ratty bed they share. They lay there, in the dark of their cheap room, two former virgins, for a long time. Meg is the one who speaks up first, knowing despite the hour that her lover is just as restless as she.

"You know Cindy, the police will be interested in me, not you. You haven't hurt anyone yet. If you want me to drop you off in the next town, if you want to tell them I-" There is something over her mouth, a thin shushing finger. She can sense Cindy's smile in the darkness, the chip in her teeth, even though she can't see it. When she speaks, her voice is as hushed and lovely as always.

"No mints on my pillow, remember?" Meg laughs, low and tired, and she is faintly aware of hot tears on her face. She shakes her head.

"I'm a lucky girl."


End file.
